Tales of A Took
by Yewen Took
Summary: A collection of stories about a young Yewen Took and her family. Next chapter up, add your own ideas! I'll write another story about Hurgo and Iris soon.
1. A Taler's Tale

**Tales of a Took**  
By Yewen Took

Disclaimer: I made the personalities, but I'm just borrowing the hobbit bodies. When I'm done, I'll send them back to the 'nameless backup hobbit' bin

Author's note: Yes, each chapter is different, though some of them will be dealing with the same characters. I'm writing this as if I was writing a book of short stories. ~*~

**The Taler's Tale**

At least once a year, around lithe, my Gran'da, Tomadas Took, invites his relations to his smial and entertains us grandly. Gran'da, however, has been getting older as the years pass, and although his cooking hasn't suffered, he tends to fall asleep during his stories!

Two of my uncles, Desso Took and Huro Sodd-Moss, tried to take over story telling, but they couldn't match Gran'da. Both of them gave up, and for the first time, the stage was empty! 

The space at the front of the room needed to be filled, so I stepped forward. And stood there. I looked at the Hobbits, young and old, sitting everywhere around me in Gran'da and Grandmum's greatroom. Cousin Ester was sitting on her new husband Bolor's lap. My mother Holly was guiding my father Todas' ale to the side table before it made it's way to the floor. My cousins Daisy and Jesso were poking each other in the ribs.

"Daisy and Jesso," I scolded. Everyone looked at me. The siblings stopped poking. I had an idea. "Daisy and Jesso Took," I continued, "lived in Tookbank in the WestFarthing of the Shire." And so began my storytelling. I can't remember that first story I told, but I was called on to tell many more, some real, some fantasy, most about my relatives.

And so begins the tales...

Yewen Took


	2. The Wooing of Iris Burrows

**The Wooing of Iris Burrows**

One night at the Green Willow pub, a group of Hobbits were celebrating. One of these Hobbits was Hurgo Moss, a hobbit notable for his quick tongue and his love of puzzles.

"I'll bet you, Hurgo," his friend, Durudoc Bramble, said, "that you couldn't catch that lass over there." Durudoc pointed across the room to a youngish Hobbit lass, with honey brown curls pulled back from her face.

"I can catch any lass I wish." Hurgo replied. He stood, a little too fast, as Durudoc had to catch his elbow to keep him from falling, and walked over to the lady's table.

"Hullo, miss..." Hurgo bowed formaly and ignored the chuckles from across the pub.

"Miss Burrows." The lass replied.

"Ah. Well, my name is Hurgo Moss. It occured to me, as I was sitting over there, that it's a shame such a pretty lass should be sitting alone."

"Thank you, Mister Moss. I may be alone, but I am not lonely. I'm waiting for some friends."

"Might I be able to keep you company until they arrive? Company is as good ale, it's a shame to waste a good ale, you know."

"Excuse me, Mister Moss, I do not know your intentions, but I already have a suitor, whom I like very well. Waste your ale on your friends, thank you." the lass turned back to her drink.

"You like him very well, do you? Those aren't usualy the words used when describing one's future husband." Hurgo put his hand down on the table. The lass glared.

"They are the usual words because I use them. Back off, you drunken sod!"

"I'm not a Sodd, Miss Burrows, I'm a Moss!"

"You are Madd, that's what you are! Now away, you are wasting ale as you stand! You know nothing about Bogrin and I, so you have no room to speak."

"I have room, alright, to speak and to roam! I have nineteen acres of the best hops in the West Farthing. What does this Bogrin have?"

"Are you sane? I don't care about your hops or your land, or you for that matter. As for what Bogrin has, he has _thirty_ acres of good farmland, and better manners than you. It occured to me one day, as I sat alone by myself, that there are different kinds of drunks: angry drunks, sad drunks, happy drunks. You, Mister Moss, have singlehandedly added a new kind to my list: daft drunks. Goodnight!" Miss Burrows once again turned back to her drink, all but dismissing Hurgo.

Hurgo left the Green Willow feeling rather defeated. He'd been rejected before, and accepted too, but this had been different. Miss Burrows was smart. Not only had she rejected him, she had beat him. He slept badly that night.

The next morning Hurgo left his smial and headed down the road rather aimlesly. He was sure he would be teased by his friends when they found him, but he made his way to the town center as if to show that he had not been beaten.

His assumption was correct, and it seemed as if his friends were all waiting for him. They jeered and mocked about his famous wit. He tried to smile and brush it off, but each taunt wounded him further.

Something bid him look up, and Miss Burrows was there, smiling smugly at him. A delusion, perhaps? A cruel joke of the mind? But she was there, and Hurgo pushed through his friends until he stood in front of her. "I admit defeat, Miss Burrows. You outwitted me." he said.

"Defeat, Mister Moss? So soon? I was hoping for a bit more than that. I suppose I _was_ a bit harsh last night, I wasn't expecting you to put up a fight."

"What?" Horgo said stupidly. He was utterly confused.

"Bogrin has thirty acres, but he has the wit of a rail. And I never said we were to be married, I said he was my suitor. Sharpen your mind, Mister Moss, or I may be forced to leave you, too."

Hurgo recovered quickly, once he realised what she had said. "I'm sure that will never happen, Miss Burrows. I'll give up my hops to buy a whetstone before I let myself bore such a cunning lass. But dear Miss Burrows, there is one puzzle that my aled wit alone cannot undo."

"And what is that, dear Mister Moss?"

"Your name, dear Miss Burrows, is a gift you never gave me to unwrap."

She laughed, and plainly told him.

Yewen Took


	3. Overlithe at Gran'da's

  
Hi!  
I've come up with a bit of writer's block on this one, so I thought I'd ask for help from all you authors and fans out there. Just send me a reply saying what else you'd like to see happen during Gran'da's Overlithe party. Remember that this is a big party, as Overlithe only happens once every four years. Thank you!

Yewen Took

**Overlithe at Gran'da's**

The bread and buns, sweets and butter were packed and ready to be taken to Gran'da Tomadas Took's. The smell of shortbread, the final thing to be baked, filled the smial. Yewen's hand edged closer to a cookie until her mum sneaked into the room and tickled her. "You sneaky little one!" 

Yewen smiled as her mum handed her a cookie.

"Your face is clean?" 

Yewen rolled her eyes and nodded, her mouth full of cookie.

"Good. It's time to go."

Todas and Holly Took filled their daughter's arms with baked goods and nudged her out the door. For the young Took the walk to Gran'da's house seemed to take forever, the inviting smells of her mother's baking floating up from the bundles in her arms and making her mouth water.

Grandmum Opal stopped stirring the soup and greeted the visitors. Aunts and cousins moved in to take the baked goods from them. Heather Sodd-Moss linked arms with Yewen as soon as the last package was taken from her and dragged her cousin outside. 

Everyone sat down for supper. Children were called in and hands were washed. Fennel Sodd-Moss and Iris Took served buns and bread, salad and taters, while Chamile brought out a ham roast. Sweet, cold cider was poured to still the afternoon heat. 

Tooks, Moss', Sodd-Moss', Bunces, Saplings and Burrows' settled in the greatroom in an arc around Gran'da Tomadas. The Took told stories of Heros and dwarfs, and of the settling of the Shire. After Gran'da announced that the last tale was told, signaled of course, by Grandmum Opal, dinner was called.

Dinner was served outside as the air cooled for the evening. Bluebell served pea soup with the leftover ham, and sweets were placed on the table much to everyone's delight. Shortbread, pound cake, tarts, candy and scones, with tea, coffee, cider and ale to drink. Children flitted from tray to tray, until, momentarily satisfied, they ran off to play.

With the last large meal of the day over, the ladies and boys who served and cooked snuck into the back pantry and collected their payment, custard tarts garnished with summer berries. This was a tradition, as well as a way to discourage the young boys, who would rather be celebrating, from misbehaving. 

As the sun set, torches were staked into the ground. The youngest children were sent to bed, but Yewen was alowed to stay up. 

Groups of older Hobbits sat outside and ate afters, washed down with Tookbank's fine ale and cider. Teens and tweens, who were too absorbed in other matters to care about afters, snuck off with their guests, or, sometimes, another Hobbit's guest. The older Hobbits shook their heads and chuckled, most likely remembering sneaking off from other parties in earlier years.

Yewen sat next to Heather on the top of the grand smial, staring back at the stars. They were soon joined by Heather's brothers, and Peach and Ester Moss. They pointed and murmered as they found the stars and constelations they knew.

Soon the late hours took hold. Happily drunken Hobbits sang the last lazy tunes of the night before falling asleep where they lay. The children were carried or guided to the guest rooms and, snuggled six to a bed, fell asleep.

Yewen Took


End file.
